


I Thought of Angels

by HollowIsTheWorld



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, and staying with benny, basically up until cas kills samandriel, canon divergent from the end of 8x10, samandriel's alive au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:59:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4096684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowIsTheWorld/pseuds/HollowIsTheWorld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You need to stop leaving dead bodies in the kitchen, angel."</p><p>"They start it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Thought of Angels

"You need to stop leaving dead bodies in the kitchen, angel." Benny sidestepped around the puddle of blood blocking his way to the refrigerator.

"They start it," Samandriel told him from where he was sitting at the kitchen counter, giving one of the three corpses a disapproving look, like it was somehow going to notice and apologize for the inconvenience. 

Benny rolled his eyes as he pulled a blood bag out of the fridge. "I didn't mean stop killing them in the first place. Just quit leaving the bodies where they fall. It's gross."

Samandriel gave Benny's dinner a very pointed stare. 

“ _This_ ,” Benny held up the bag of blood, “is food. _That_ ,” he pointed at one of the bodies, “is messy and unhygienic.”

“I make sure to kill them in the kitchen instead of the living room or something,” Samandriel protested.

“Why is that so important?”

“It’s a lot easier to clean blood off of linoleum than out of carpets.”

“How would you know? You never do any of the cleaning. You just leave them laying around until I come home.”

Samandriel shrugged. “I kill them. It seems only fair for you to do the other half of the work. They were after you, after all.”

“Sure, _these_ ones were. But what about those demons a couple of weeks ago? They were after _you_ and you didn’t clean up then either. and the house reeked of sulfur for a week. Not to mention all the plates you broke.”

“You hated those plates. That’s why they were on the counter instead of in a cupboard where they belong and where I wouldn’t have broken them.”

“That’s not the _point_. It’s the principle of the thing, angel, and the principle of this is that it’s rude to destroy someone’s house and not help clean up afterwards.”

Still looking unperturbed - or maybe it was just angel seeming inability to make facial expressions - Samandriel looked at the three dead men again. “Maybe we should move.”

Benny scoffed. “Yeah, right. The demons would just find us again, and I’m not giving the vampires and the hunters the satisfaction.” Thank God they were warded against angels, at least. Those Benny would run from, and he’d had plenty enough running for a lifetime.

Samandriel nodded as though that was the end of the discussion. “Guess you’ll just have to keep cleaning up corpses then.”

Benny finished his blood, threw the bag away, and looked at the bodies, trying to decide where to start. “Honestly, angel, you couldn’t just zap them off somewhere to be someone else’s problem?”

Samandriel huffed, stood up, and stalked into the living room. Benny couldn’t see him, but he was pretty sure the angel just flopped down on the couch in there. Probably started sulking. He did that a lot.

Benny didn’t have a wide range of experience with angels, but in the two months he’d had Samandriel as a houseguest he’s gotten the impression that he was a pretty piss-poor excuse for one.

Dean had foisted Samandriel on Benny two months ago, out of the blue. Benny hadn’t gotten much of the story out of him, just something about Heaven gone haywire, demonic torture, and Cas gone crazy. It had all sounded like a typical hunter mess to Benny, and one he shouldn’t get involved in, but Samandriel had been in such bad shape that it would have been like throwing a stray puppy out into the rain. At any rate, Benny had few enough friends that when one of them asked for help he didn’t really have it in him to say no.

Besides, he’d met Dean in Purgatory. He’d always known his friends was a magnet for trouble.

Samandriel had been either unconscious or half out of his mind for the first week and a half, and Benny had spent a good chunk of that time practicing how to tell Dean that, when dealing with a guy who had apparently had spikes driven through his skull, odds of survival were low, no matter how angelic the guy in question was.

Samandriel had pulled through though. Somehow. Damn kid was stubborn as hell.

He was also a terrible houseguest, and Benny was trying to figure out whether that was because Samandriel was, in fact, a terrible houseguest, or if it was just because he was angel and had no concept of what being a houseguest meant.

He was leaning towards the former.

Benny looked towards the living room, where he could hear that Samandriel had flicked on the TV, and shook his head. _Angels._

He finished cleaning up the kitchen and dragged the bodies outside. The nice thing about living in the middle of nowhere in Louisiana was the lack of nosy neighbors to notice things like this, as well as plenty of options for body dumping.

Benny had done this so many times now that he was only half thinking about it. Most of his brain power was going towards Samandriel. It mostly always did, these days.

Really, as far as Benny could tell, angels, as a general rule, had no manners whatsoever. To say his and Castiel’s relationship had been rocky would have been a dramatic understatement, and they’d had Dean to serve as a middleman, not to mention extenuating circumstances forcing them to find a way to work together. Samandriel, the only other angel Benny had ever met, wasn’t an improvement. All he ever seemed to do was complain, eat, sleep, and refuse to help clean up his own mess.

Benny was ready to head home, halfway back into his truck, when it hit him. He stopped in his tracks, on foot in the truck, one still on the ground, one hand on the door frame. Purgatory messed with the laws of the real world, but Benny had learned a few things about angels while he was there.

Namely, that they weren’t supposed to need sleep. Or food.

Benny bit the inside of his cheek on the drive home, his mind two months back, when Samandriel had first been dropped in his lap. He’d looked like death warmed over. He looked better now, fully human, but what did Benny know about angel physiology? That body wasn’t what he really looked like, why should Benny expect it to show how well Samandriel was doing?

Benny’s own words, demanding to know why Samandriel didn’t just zap the bodies off somewhere, echoed in his mind. Poor kid probably _couldn’t_. No wonder he'd stalked off when Benny mentioned it. It had to be a sore spot.

Benny got out of his truck slowly when he reached the house. He felt like he should apologize, but he wasn’t entirely certain how to explain what he was sorry for. He didn’t know how Samandriel would feel about an apology either. He might be offended, or too proud to accept it. He was, after all, an angel.

No matter how much he looked like a kid who should be carded anytime he came with fifteen feet of a bar.

Samandriel hadn't moved from the couch. Even just this morning Benny would have been exasperated. Now though, he observed Samandriel a little more carefully. He was lying on his side, head on a throw pillow, and his feet curled up so they wouldn't dangle over the side of the couch. His face was a little paler than usual, and his breaths seemed to be slow, deep, and carefully measured.

Benny winced. Samandriel was probably exhausted. Three hunters wouldn't be much of a threat for an average angel, but Samandriel was pretty far below average at the moment. Benny would need to remember that. The state the house had been in after the incident with the demons suddenly made a lot more sense. That fight must have been a much closer one than Samandriel had let on. Damn angels and their damn pride. Wasn't pride one of the seven deadly sins or something? You'd think angels would be above that sort of thing.

Samandriel noticed him standing there, but didn't move. "I'm watching How It's Made, if you want to join me. This one's about hockey gloves." He said it casually, like he couldn't care less what Benny did.

Benny settled himself into the armchair next to the couch. "This how you spend most of your time when I'm at work, angel? Watching documentaries?"

He'd just been making idle conversation, killing time until the commercials were over, but when Samandriel didn't respond he started to worry he'd somehow offended him.

Benny looked over to see that Samandriel had turned just enough to be looking at Benny, his face scrunched up in disapproval, which was a much more adorable and juvenile expression than Benny would have expected to see on an Angel of the Lord. Not that he'd ever tell Samandriel that. He'd probably be horribly offended, and the bodies Benny kept coming home to were proof that, weakened or not, Samandriel could still pack a punch when it counted.

"Why do you keep calling me angel? I don't go around calling you vampire."

"You did the first few days you were conscious."

"You got annoyed and told me to stop."

"Because you were making it damn clear that you meant it as an insult."

"Of course I did, you're a _vampire_. Why would I trust you that quickly? And you're avoiding my question."

Benny huffed a little, but let the argument drop. He never would have thought it would be possible to meet someone more stubborn that Dean Winchester, but Samandriel certainly put up a good fight. "Just think of it as a term of endearment, all right?"

Samandriel scoffed. "You don't like me enough for it to be a term of endearment."

Benny frowned. "I like you fine, kid."

Samandriel raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

"What, you think I let people I don't like crash on my couch for two months?"

"We both know you're only doing that as a favor to Dean."

"Angel, if I really didn't like you I would have thrown you out on your ass as soon as you could make it to the door."

Samandriel just looked confused now, tilting his head to one side and ignoring the television as his show finally came back on. "You don't _act_ like you like me."

Benny supposed he couldn't fault Samandriel for the assumption, their relationship did involve a lot of arguing. He hadn't meant for the angel to start assuming he wasn't welcome though.

He shrugged, trying to play it off like none of it really mattered to him, really. "No one ever said I was friendly."

Samandriel's eyes narrowed, and he got off the couch. There was only a few feet between the couch and the armchair, but Samandriel managed to make crossing the distance look dramatic.

He didn't say anything when he got there, just stood in front of Benny with his arms crossed over his chest and a determined expression set into his face.

"...What?" Benny asked slowly when it became apparent that Samandriel didn't plan on explains what he was doing anytime soon.

"Is this that thing humans do, where they act like they dislike someone because they don't want them to know they actually do like them? Because I see that on TV a lot, and it is a really stupid thing to do."

Benny sputtered, his brain trying - and failing - to keep up with what Samandriel had just said. He didn't - he wasn't - unless - maybe? His brain seemed to be suddenly engaged in an all-out war with itself, one part screeching denials, while another part calmly brought up memories of watching Samandriel for no other real reason than because he was there, and _goddamn_ he looked a lot better than he had when they first met. Remembered the flash of panic the first time he’d come home to find Samandriel panting over a couple of beheaded vampires. How he brought him up at work a bit more often than he probably should, considering that Samandriel was technically in hiding. The guilt that had panged through him just a little while ago, when he’d realized how little credit he’d been giving the angel.

Everything flashing through his head seemed to be choking up in his throat, and he could distantly hear himself making stuttering noises of unconvincing denial.

He dimly registered that Samandriel was rolling his eyes, and then the angel bent over, grabbed the back of Benny’s chair with one determined hand, and then he was kissing him.

Benny’s brain wasn’t done trying to sort out what the hell his emotions were doing, but the rest of him seemed to be on board with the whole thing. One hand went up, seemingly of its own accord, and fisted into the back of Samandriel’s shirt. The other reached out, but never reached its destination.

Samandriel pulled back before Benny was ready for it, and if he hadn’t been securely sitting down he’d probably have fallen over.

Samandriel smirked, clearly pleased with himself. He returned to his spot on the couch, and turned up the volume on the TV as though nothing had happened.

Too surprised to make words, Benny just sat there. _Angels._

 

 

 

 


End file.
